


sppicy memes 2018

by housecat



Category: yeet - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/housecat/pseuds/housecat





	sppicy memes 2018

“It seems you are getting slow on your feet, cowboy” 

Sweat dripped from Hanzo’s forehead onto the colorless rubber mat beneath them, some curls of his long, downy black and grey hair slipped out from underneath the hairband they had been placed under. Mccree, face flushed and breathing quite heavily, chucked and released all tensions in his muscles as a sign of defeat. Though he was thoroughly pinned to the floor and should be in a position that allowed for no movement, he still managed to splay himself like a damsel in distress. 

“Ya got me” A smirk played on his lips.

Hanzo simply rolled his eyes at the theatrics and stood up again. Mccree also stood, somehow able to act as excited as when they first entered this room to spar.  
“Hand to hand combat is cool n’ all, but we should try something different” Mccree suggested. He was looking straight at Hanzo with a look that was briefly reminiscent of a puppy. 

“Tired of being beaten?” This time it was Hanzo’s turn to look smug, a small grin cut into the usually stony features of his face. McCree chose to ignore this, and turned to the weapon rack behind him to chose their next weapons. 

“Hey Hanzoooooooo…” 

Hans tried to see what weapon the sun- tanned man had picked, but couldn’t see over his broad shoulders. Their training clothes, “dreadfully dull” as Hana would put it, accentuated McCree’s dark hair and skin. Before Hanzo could fully comprehend McCrees most recent movements, something was tossed into his palms and he handled it in slight curiosity. Before his brain could fully register it’s identity, McCree turns, drawling out his words. 

“I’ve heard you’re pretty handy with a sword. Fortunately, I’m no spring chicken either when it comes to these. We should duel!” 

Hanzo looked down at the weapon between his palms and felt like throwing up. It had been years since he last handled a weapon like this, and he didn’t want to think about ever touching one ever again. McCree only continued. 

“Ya see, I was down in San Antonio with a group of misfits like myself, and-“  
“McCree, no.” Hanzo had that heavy feeling in the back of his throat. It was almost tangible, as if a smooth stone had been installed there. The slight nausea was only rising, though not quite biting yet, a dull sensation slowly slithering like a snake up his throat.  
*I deserve every second of this. I am a killer, a bloodied man, who deserves nothing less of an actual snake crawling down my throat-*  
“Aw come on, I know it’s been a few years since you last fought, but it has been for me as well” Doltishly, McCree attempted to spin the blade in his hand, only to drop it on the ground with a sheepish grin. That seemed to keep him occupied enough for Hanzo to gather his thoughts. 

*I'm getting worked up over nothing. It’s a wooden sword, meant for play fighting. It was not going to hurt anyone. I may as well entertain the man so he will go back to his dorm.* 

“F-fine” Hanzo looked away indignantly, trying to make it seem like he was only feeling just that.  
“That’s the spirit darling! Now to get into position…” McCree attempted to get into a balanced position with the sword in hand, while Hanzo immediately got into position, conditioned by years of training. The play sword, though not thermoconductive in any matter, burned like fire between his palms. He was sweating like a guilty man before his trial, and in a way that’s what he felt like. Like he was back in the wooden building with Genji again, with real weapons in their hands. The tribe elders stared on, sitting parallel to the rectangular mat, where a brother stood at each respective end. The onlooker’s eyes stared objectively, like both Genji and Hanzo were both pawns in their little politics game. 

The snake kills the sparrow.

The snake kills the sparrow… 

Hanzo lunges and runs forward toward him, his newfound enemy. There was no time for thoughts of mercy, for notions of brotherhood and loyalty. It was destined and preordained that the snake kills the sparrow simply to survive, with no feelings attached. Genji is woefully unprepared, as someone as unpracticed as he should be, when Hanzo puts his katana through his shoulder. A miscalculation. Genji gasps and steps back, shocked. Hanzo uses this time to run a deep slice from Genji’s right shoulder to his left hip. The killing blow. Blood splashes from his blade, coating his hands and sword in bright hues. His new robes are forever ruined, stained by the blood created of fratricide and complicated plots and duty- 

“Hanzo!” 

Hanzo stumbles back and drops the sword, startled. He trips backwards onto the mat below and looks down at his empty hands.  
His hands are calloused and rough. They were not stained or dirtied. Nothing had happened.


End file.
